


They Might Be Crazy, But They Is My Family

by Itssilverbrich



Series: Technoblade Redemption Arcs (or at least a slightly better person) [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Dadza, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Dave | Technoblade-centric, Dehumanization, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, I WILL SEE MR. T. INNIT HAVE A GOOD CHRISTMAS WITH HIS SURVIVING FAMILY OR DIE TRYING, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, PLEASE I JUST WANT TOMMY TO BE HAPPY AND TECHNO TO APOLOGISE AND GET SOME FORM OF APOLOGY IN RETURN, Piglin Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Wilbur Soot, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Suicidal Thoughts, TECHNO BACKSTORY POG, Techno needs to sort his feelings out, Technoblade Is Doing His Best, Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade and Wilbur are twins, Technoblade stays chill in this house, Technobro, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), WERE CANON, Wilbur "my mum is a fridge" Soot can go eat my shorts, cringe culture is as dead as Wilbur Soot, emotionally constipated pig forces survivalist to talk about his feelings and confront his mistakes, i decide how the sleepy boys inc fam works, the character death is wilbur btw, this relates only to their character protrayals on the Dream SMP, tubbo is a goat and not related to schlatt for parallel and funny goat boy reasons, we stan not only an axemurderer but an axeprotecter uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itssilverbrich/pseuds/Itssilverbrich
Summary: Techno is actually a good cook.How does that end with Techno dressed in a makeshift Santa Suit, being laughed at his Angel Survivalist Dad, his Pro Government Exiled Teen Brother, the ghost of his Twin, and his other younger brother who may or may not be the president of a country he tried to destroy?Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, No ships baby, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Tommyinnit & Wilbur Soot
Series: Technoblade Redemption Arcs (or at least a slightly better person) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111808
Comments: 32
Kudos: 556





	1. That's It, It's Split, It Won't Recover. (Just Frame The Halves And Call Them Brothers)

**Author's Note:**

> Sleepy Boys Inc. in Dream SMP has destroyed me and I need some seldom happiness in this greek tragedy of a Minecraft RP and none of the fics already written are giving me what I need so I GUESS I'LL JUST DO IT MYSELF.

When Technoblade first started cooking dinner for the two denizens of Logsteadshire, it was entirely an accident and Techno is sticking to that story.    
He hadn’t meant to make so much rabbit stew but he did and he already had too much so the obvious, logical decision was to give it to someone else.    
He didn’t give it to Phil because, well, New L’Manberg was so far away and he didn’t feel like making the trip just to give Phil stew he could make himself.   
Tommy and Wilbur, on the other hand.    
They were closer, Techno wasn’t even sure if Wilbur, Ghostbur, could cook, Wilbur couldn’t, and from what Techno had last heard, Tommy probably wasn’t thinking of eating that good right now.    
  
So yeah. Most logical.    
  
If Tommy’s angry and tearstained face lighting up in confusion than relief once the kid got some and Ghostbur’s cheerful cry made him feel  _ slightly _ more inclined to cook for the two, well, that’s between him and Bob the cow.    
  
Tommy was hesitant to accept the stew, which, to be honest, fair, but Ghostbur gobbled it up.    
The monochrome ghost of his dead twin had missed Techno’s cooking apparently. The two piglin hybrids happily chatted about anything that came to mind while Tommy slowly ate his stew as if he was being poisoned or it was his last meal. 

  
Techno didn’t care.

  
Okay, maybe, he cared a little but hey! He takes a lot of pride in his cooking! Was just being made by Techno enough for Tommy to hate it?   
  
Either way, it was nice to actually talk to Wilbur again.   
Even if it wasn’t really Wilbur.   
  
  
“Sooo….” Philza grinned like the cat that caught the canary, leaning over Techno’s desk as the half-piglin cooked. “A little birdie told me Tommy and Ghostbur have been getting a pink haired visitor.”   
“Phil, if a bird is talking to you, you should probably see someone,” Techno replied as cool as he could manage. “Besides, they’ve actually gotten a lot of visitors, it could be anyone.”    
“Mm-hm.” Philza just shook his head as his pinkheaded, pig eared son added in an ingredient the older man knew Tommy liked and Techno hated.    
The survivalist sighed, shaking his head before walking over to Techno, ruffling his pink curls. Techno stopped stirring for a minute to lean into his father figure’s touch, smiling softly and chuffing. Philza smiled and chuckled at the reaction before pulling his hand away.   
“Just be gentle around Tommy, alright? I know you two disagree but he’s….” the older blonde looked away. “He’s in a sticky spot, alright? You can tease him but behave.”   
Techno rolled his eyes but nodded.   
He liked to think, besides a few jabs at Tommy’s pro-government beliefs and the consequences they had led the younger boy, he was being pretty nice.    
“Thank you.”    
“Anything for you, Phil.”   
  
  
“Christmas is in two weeks or so.” Tommy said, the first non antagonistic words Techno had heard from him. Techno blinked before letting out a snort and nodding.    
“What do you plan to do for it?” Tommy asked, sounding…. Oddly tired.    
“Eh, not much. Can’t go to New L’Manberg and frankly don’t want to.” Techno shrugged, barely keeping a snarl in. He didn’t like that place at all, peaceful lifestyle or not.    
Considering it was built upon by betrayal of his own beliefs, his hard work, and the final resting place of his twin, he thinks he’s allowed a little bitterness.    
“You too, huh?” Tommy said weakly. It was so out of character for the blonde, it made the anarchist a little worried. Just a little. “Techno, do you- do you think Dream will ever let me go back? Without killing me?”   
“What? No,” Techno snorted. “The guy’s a control freak. He knows if he lets you back in once, you’ll do nothing short of die to go again.”   
“Oh,” Tommy sounded near tears and a part of Techno he had been actively trying to kill roared to life, urging him to find whoever hurt  _ his little brother _ and make them pay. “Okay, thanks for being so honest.”   
It… it almost reminded him of….   
  
_ “Wilbur?” Techno poked his head in, watching the other piglin hybrid startle at his voice. “You alright?”  _ _  
_ _ “Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah…” Wilbur sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Just…. Do you really think we can get L’Manberg?” _ _  
_ _ “Well, yeah, Dream and Schlatt may have a traitor in your ranks,” Wilbur flinched, how had Techno missed that he had flinched? “But you have more people, more firepower, and me. It’s practically guaranteed.” _ _  
_ _ “But- Techno, I mean- ” Wilbur struggled to speak, seeming to, for once, be out of words. “Do you think L’Manberg will ever be the nation I started again?” _ _  
_ _ Techno frowned. _ _  
_ _ “Well. No,” Techno said and he could pinpoint the exact second Wilbur’s heart broke, for the hundredth time. “But I mean, isn’t that good? L’Manberg wasn’t built on the best intentions or built upon with them either. The L’Manberg you create with the others tomorrow, it could be better, stronger, freer. It might not be yours anymore, Wilbur, but you can still shape it.” _ _  
_ _ When Techno looked at his brother, he saw exactly what Wilbur wanted him to see.  _ _  
_ _ He saw his trusted twin, his honest and loving brother, a learning leader, a fellow anarchist, someone who wouldn’t use him for destruction and then throw him and their brotherhood away at the first chance.  _ _  
_ _ He saw his twin, Wilbur Soot, smiling at him, beanie covering his untamed curls and his usually filed down tusks poking out. Techno smiled back at that Wilbur before calling out a goodbye, planning on spending most of the night on last minute preps and two hours at most of sleep.  _ _  
_ _ The next night he lied in bed wondering if that Wilbur had died or if he was ever real.  _

Techno looked over at the trembling teen before glancing over at Wil- Ghostbur. The phantom had just finished his food, hovering over to Tommy as he shook, his void like eyes glowing spotlights of concern.    
“Well, I could always help you set Christmas here,” Techno said as casually as he could. “Wouldn’t be the same but I’m sure with my help you could set up something decent.”   
“Wha- Why would we want your help?!” Tommy squawked in protest the same time Ghostbur cried out a cheerful “Yay! Techno Clause!”    
“Ha! Techno Clause!” Techno left out a laugh at that, unable to keep himself from doing so. “I can even bring Philza by. He’s been wanting to see you two anyway.”   
“Why? So he can gloat about how stupid I am too?” Tommy spat out, now seeming more like himself now that he had a target for his volatile emotions.    
“Nah, he’s more worried you aren’t sleeping enough or something like that.” Techno chose to ignore the insult towards his only ally and the jab at Techno’s first reaction to Tommy's exile which was admittedly a little harsh. Tommy should get his aggression out now if this was really going to happen. 

“..... You really wanna do this?” Tommy asked. Techno hesitated,  _ Tommy is pro government, he sees me as a weapon, he hates me, he thinks I’m a traitor,  _ but nodded,  _ he’s my brother, he’s alone, what would Phil want, what would  _ Wil  _ want _ .   
“.....Thank you.” Tommy said softly and way more quiet than he was used to.   
“No problem.” Techno said in reply, finishing his stew.  __


	2. 'Cause I Told You My Level Of Concern (But You Walked By Like You Never Heard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Dream Voice*  
> In this video, we coded it so Philza Minecraft is forced to take responisibilty for his terrible parenting and blantent favoritism. Will he survive long enough for me to smack good parenting skills into him? Read this fanfic to find out.  
> Also, only a small amount of people who watch my videos are actually subscribed-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the favorite oldest child, the dsmp sbi dynamic was making me sad but none of those losers were moving to fix it so,

It brought back memories, to be honest, preparing for Christmas.    
It was a practiced routine, a peaceful break from the battles he waged in so many different servers, a time where he could lean into his more relaxed hobbies, of cooking and decorating and reading a book with Wilbur. 

Phil would go out with Wilbur to find the perfect tree, the musician had been the best at it, finding the perfect tree to fit in their small home but still look beautiful.    
Tommy and Tubbo would plan pranks that were disregarded once threatened with the wrath of Santa Clause.    
Techno would help Phil cook the Christmas dinner.    
It had been the only time Techno felt truly safe, to be completely truthful.    
  
Techno knew that feeling was gone, that it maybe would never come back, but he couldn’t help but feel sentimental as he and Ghostbur walked through a forest, looking for the perfect tree to put in Logsteadshire.   
“Oh, I’m so excited for Logmas!” Ghostbur floated around Techno’s head, the nickname the spirit had come up with for this celebration making both half piglins smile. “I’m not sure what I’m gonna get Tommy for Logmas, do you?”   
Techno hummed as he walked, his axe rested over his shoulder.    
“Not really, no,” Techno shrugged. “Is there anything in particular he wants?”   
“L’Manberg,” Ghostbur says and Techno stops because,  _ no, not again, he couldn’t do this again, _ he almost tripped on a tree root. “He misses his friends a lot, he needs a lot of blue.”    
Oh. He… he meant, L’Manberg as in the group of friends he had, not the country itself. Okay. Okay.    
“Not entirely sure if I can do that….” Techno sighed, resuming walking. “Anything else?”   
“Hmm… People have been getting him disks! And I got him a compass pointing to Tubbo! Tubbo has one pointing to him!”   
“What, really?”

  
“You have to say something to them at some point.” Techno finally forces out. Phil looks up from his book, seeming surprised by the hybrid anarchist’s statement.    
In reality, they had just both been waiting. 

“To who?” Phil asked pointlessly.    
“Tommy and Wilbur are convinced you hate them or something like that,” Techno said, not acknowledging the question. He also didn’t acknowledge how this was only because Phil hung around Techno the most. “They’re having a Christmas celebration, you could visit them then.”    
“Hm…” Phil finally put down his book. “What would I even say?”   
“I find hello is a good start,” Techno joked before forcing himself to focus. He couldn’t let the awkwardness  _ and the fear he’d finally push Philza too far _ stop him from helping his dad. “They’d just be happy to see you.”   
“.....Techno, I killed Wilbur,” Phil said. “Even if you or Wil don’t care, Tommy will.”   
“I do care,” Techno blurted out before flinching. “Wait, no, I mean-”    
Phil looks up at Techno and, no, Techno is not letting Phil run from this, he owes Wilbur this, he owes  _ Tommy  _ this.    
“You’re their dad, Phil,” Techno forces out of teeth and tusks. “They could use some fatherly love in these trying times.”   
“I.. I don’t know if I can.” Phil murmurs, regretful face illuminated by the fireplace.    
“Phil, you have to try, they need you.” Techno gritted out.    
“You’re already helping them, son,” he turned away. “Isn’t that enough?”   
“I’m not you, Phil.” Techno nearly screamed.    
“No,” Phil shook his head. “You’re worse.”   
“Exactly, I-” Techno stopped, his ears subconsciously drooping. “Wait, what?”    
“I haven’t been the best father to any of you,” Phil stood, rubbing his face. “Wilbur was desperate for respect and attention to the point of dying for it, Tommy is more independent than a child his age should be, Tubbo has difficulty fighting back, and you….”    
Techno dares not say anything. He doesn’t even know what to say.   
“Techno, you consider yourself a weapon and let others use you as such, it took Wilbur dying and almost all of your family hating you to even consider hanging up your sword.”    
“This, this isn’t about me, Phil,” Techno managed to get out. “Wilbur and Tommy need you.”   
“Don’t you see, son?” Phil looked near tears and Techno was panicking. “They needed me before and I couldn’t, didn’t, do enough. They’re better off without me.”   
“No, they’re not!” Techno finally shouted, throwing his hands up. “Phil, if you feel bad, it’s never too late to make an effort now!”   
“But what if it is?” Phil whispered.    
“I don’t know,” Techno replied. “I’ve never been a father and I don’t plan to be. But please at least be there for them.”   
“....I’ll…. I’ll try…” Phil said in a far too small voice. “Do you know what they’d like for Christmas?”

“....Think you could help with my present for Tommy?”    
  
  
Tubbo rubbed his face and sighed, leaning over the desk, sleepy eyes glazing over the huge amounts of paperwork.   
He yawned, goat ears flicking up as another creak of the night echoed into his room. His eyes once more found the compass and he felt the bone deep exhaustion that had been following him even before his unplanned presidentry.    
He picked it up, feeling the magic connecting the small metal device to Tommy’s residence warm the usually chilly metal. He smiled sadly, tracing the words titled on the back.    
_ Your Tommy. _   
Tubbo missed Tommy. He missed him a lot. Dream said Tommy was fine, was okay, but some part of Tubbo cried out in disagreement.    
Tubbo would stand by his decision; Tommy’s exile had been the safest option he could think of at the time, for New L’Manberg and Tommy himself.    
But still, the young goat kid wondered. Had there been another way? Were his motives for exiling Tommy wholly L’Manberg’s safety, and not the small seed of resentment Tubbo had for being in the other blonde’s shadow for so long?    
Did Tommy know Tubbo missed him? Wanted him back? Did Tommy miss Tubbo or had Tommy replaced their friendship with a peaceful life on some distant shore?    
It was cold and it was dark and suddenly Tubbo wasn’t alone.    
Tubbo turned and was met with two blood red eyes pinning him in place.    
Technoblade was in the window, netherite armour glinting in the moonlight and armed to the teeth.    
Tubbo backed up as much as he could, the burn scars on his face sparking with phantom pain at the sight of their creator.    
“Hallo, Mr. President,” Techno said and it was almost respectful sounding. “How’s your government going?”   
Tubbo felt his back run into his desk, his hand tightly gripping his compass.    
“Technoblade. What are you doing here?” Tubbo asked, looking for any possible way of escaping and/or summoning help.    
“Oh, just wanted to invite you to a little get together.” Techno didn’t smile but he seemed far too pleased to be safe.    
“I assume alone?” Tubbo asked, edging around the wooden desk, bristling at Techno’s nod. “And if I refuse?”   
“Why would you wanna do that? Trust me, it’s best if you do.” Techno tilts his head, as if he’s curious if Tubbo will actually refuse or run.    
Tubbo’s not sure what he’ll do. He knows he doesn’t plan on losing his last life to Technoblade, of all people.    
“When and how do I get there?” Tubbo murmured, hating the actual smile more than the pleased look.    
“December 24th, 5 pm. You already know the way there.” Techno said, motioning to the compass held in sweaty and tight grip.    
Oh. Oh no. What had Tommy done now?   
“Tommy is involved in this?” Tubbo asks pointlessly but nervously.    
“Why wouldn’t he be?”    
Tubbo swallows down the painful concoction of fear and concern for himself and Tommy and nods.    
“I’ll be there,” Tubbo says quietly. “Alone.”    
“Good. I’ll see you then, President Tubbo.”   
Tubbo crumbled to the floor once he was gone, clutching the glowing, warm compass to his chest.    
  
  
Techno sighed as he landed next to Philza, the older man keeping an eye open for any possible threats.    
“Talking to people is haaaaard.” Techno whined, Philza patting him on the armored head.    
“Hey, try going into isolation for five years, might make you more appreciative.” Phil chuckled.    
“Haha,” Techno huffed, heading back to the river. “Thanks for watching, make sure Tubbo comes, alright?”   
“Of course,” Phil yelled back. “I’ll visit Tommy and Wilbur tomorrow, alright?”    
Techno nodded, his five minutes of talking to Tubbo draining for the next 200 years.    
Tommy better appreciate his present.    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Techno didn't mean to scare Tubbo nor was he gonna hurt him, he's just bad at not being threatening and forgot he had previously traumatized Tubbo at least twice.  
> Whoops.


	3. It Runs In The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. How do we feel about becoming canon to the Dream SMP today, boys?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing this: I am going to write something so indulgent
> 
> SO SUE ME I AM AN OLDEST FAVORITE KID WITH MAJOR FAMILY ISSUES AND I WANT SLEEPY BOYS INC  
> LET HE WITHOUT SIN CAST THE FIRST STONE

It starts like this.   
Philza Minecraft, long time survivalist and Angel of Death, is in the Nether.    
He has a golden helmet on and an iron chestplate, both with incredibly low durability, and he’s scooping up the salty tears of a slain ghast when he sees a troop of Piglins.    
He sees one, a child with a sword, shielding another, a discolored brown instead of leathery pink, from the others.    
There are three crossbows trained on the two and yet the adults dare not approach the abnormal duo, the adults and the child at some sort of stalemate.    
Finally, one lets free a squeal of a battle cry and charges, switching their bow for a sword. Philza winces and prepares to turn away and run, unwilling to watch children get killed but unsure if he could handle three crossbows at once.    
The armed child simply snorts and awaits the attack. Philza flinches and looks away.   
He hears the slash of a sword and the squeal of death and the thud of a body but none of those sounds sound like they came from a child.    
He opens his eyes and the child is snarling at the two remaining adults, the other trembling behind him.    
The adults screech in rage and aim the crossbows. Fear enters both children’s eyes.    
  
Philza is a force of nature, shifting turan, pillaging and protecting villages, restoring and destroying.    
The children stare up at him in awe before the armed one remembers himself, pointing a slightly shaky sword at the older man.    
The man simply smiles at the child before grabbing the child by the hand, adjusting his hold on the half broken golden blade.    
  
That is how Phil adopted Techno and Wilbur.    
  
The story does not end there, not by a long shot.    
Techno has lived with Philza for a year now and awakes at the sound of something shattering. He hears a curse and untangles himself from Wilbur and jumps out of bed, leaving the bedroom with the assurance his heavy sleeping twin will still be there when he returns.    
Philza is in the kitchen, a shattered plate on the ground, holding his head and looking two seconds away from falling over.    
The concern that had got him in trouble in the Nether takes over and Techno approaches slowly, snorting quietly.    
Phil turns, eyes wide and blown up, and Techno steps back.    
They stare at each other before Phil untenses, shaking his head.    
“What are you doing up, mate?” the man asks, hand on his head like he had a headache.    
“Big sound,” Techno mutters in broken english, still having trouble with the language but eager to learn. “Worried.”    
“I- I’m fine, Techno,” Phil reassures. “Just talking to Ch- to a friend.”   
“Oh,” Techno nods before looking around, the kitchen empty for anything but the two and the broken plate. “Where?”   
The room is silent, Philza struggling for an answer and Techno patiently waiting for one.    
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Phil says instead, reaching for the broom. “We have to train tomorrow.”   
Techno frowns but nods. He may be curious but not curious to miss out on training. He was good at it and Philza would always praise him and critique him on it. He didn’t want to risk the only familiar and comfortable part of the overworld he now lived in.   
So he headed to bed, ignored the muttering of Philza and curled back around Wilbur.   
  
The brown half piglin had not stirred once.   
  
They do not train the next day, Philza twitchy and armed to the teeth.    
He tells the boys to stay inside and practice their english, verbal and written, and that he’d probably only be back until much later, so to eat dinner and go to bed before he got home.    
  
At midnight, Techno heard the door open and sat up.    
Philza, as expected, opened their bedroom door to check on them before he went to bed.    
Techno’s heart froze at the sight of Phil. 

  
His blonde hair had the crust of blood on the tips, a new scar on his nose, his gloves tinted red and his sword stained.    
The man looked like he had just finished a difficult english assignment, relieved but nervous, a look that did not fit right with the remains of battle on him. 

  
“Oh, sorry, Techno,” Phil whispered, unaware of his adopted son’s fear. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Head back to sleep, okay?”   
Somehow, Techno did.    
  
It happens like this.    
Techno’s thoughts had always been loud and violent but in the Nether, such noise was drowned out by Ghast cries and popping lava.    
At first, it was fine, quiet muttering in the back of his head.    
  
But one day, he gets a lucky hit on Philza and his mind  _ explodes.  _   
He drops to his knees, dropping the training diamond sword, a squeal of pain escaping.    
Philza drops his own weapon and Wilbur looks up from his music book, both looking surprised and scared at the sudden change of attitude.    
  
_ KILL _ _   
_ _ KILL _ _   
_ _ KILL _ _   
_ _ BLOOD _ _   
_ _ TOBUSCUS  _ _   
_ _ KILL _ _   
_ _ KILL _ _   
_ _ BLOOD _ _   
_ _ BLOOD _ _   
_ _   
_ There’s so many voices, screaming so many things, and Techno doesn’t know where they came from.    
Wilbur runs over, pulling his hands away from tearing off his own ears. Wilbur’s skin gives off the same chill it always has and it relieves Techno of the heat coming from his own.    
Wilbur and Philza are both saying something but the voices wash over him, blending all the words into a cacophony of voices.    
“Shut up,” he whines, unaware of the flinch his little family gives at the harsh words. “So loud.”   
  
_ TECHNOWHINE  _ _   
_ _ TECHNOCRY _ _   
_ _ AWW POOR BABY :( _ _   
_ _ LMAO _ _   
_ _ TECHNOWHINE _ _   
_ _ TECHNOWHINE _ _   
_ _   
_ “Please stop,” Techno cries out. “Please stop, Chat.”   
He doesn’t know where he got the word Chat or what it means but the title feels right and it makes the voices murmur a little quieter.    
With the voices at a reasonable volume, he can finally see the horror and resignation on Phil’s face.   
“Phil?” he asks, voice hoarse from crying so loudly. “What’s wrong?”   
  
  
Philza increases Techno’s training and trains not only his body but his mind.    
The voices are not his enemies, no, they are his audience, his patrons, those in the beyond who know more than he does and can either aid him or tear him down.    
He must do his best to satisfy their bloodlust or they will drive him to do so without his consent, they will drive him insane if he lingers too long.    
  
Techno becomes used to violence, to war, to the feel of a sword in his hand, a guiding hand on his shoulder and an order whispered to him by either his eternal watchers or an ally.    
He becomes used to being used, to be known only for his victories, for his blade. He becomes Techno Blade and the Chat chants meaningless letters or calls for blood.    
  
  
  
It crumbles like this.    
Wilbur hears voices too. He is an ex-president and he has lost everything, including his belief that he is doing what is right.    
In this greek tragedy of a server, the right is as twisted as the wrong but Wilbur does not see that, his world shaded in black and white.    
The voices come to him like a song at first, the chorus to a familiar hymn he wrote.    
When the TNT enters his hand, they change their tune, screaming the words, chanting their demands.    
Wilbur is not sure if they are Chat or if they are Wilbur.    
They argue in his head about the button, push or not to push, that is the question.    
He is alone. He is afraid.    
L’Manberg as it was his is gone, tainted by Schlatt’s and his own evil.   
He pushes the button and when the Chat dubs his horrified father Killza, he raises his voice until there is a sword in his heart and the voices are finally silenced.    
The Chat tells Techno this story late at night, voices laughing and regretful, and he cries for the first time in years.    
  
  
It happens like this.    
Technoblade visits Tommy with more redstone and glowstone to use for lights and finds Ghostbur singing to a sobbing Tommy.    
Techno drops the items in his arms and runs over to the two, looking frantically around for any possible threat to a clearly out of it teen.    
“Tommy?” Techno skids to a stop on his knees. “Tommy, look at me.”   
Tommy raises his head with a sob and howl, pounding his fists on the side of his head.    
“Why do they keep saying, ‘Blood for the Blood God’?!” Tommy screams, clearly trying to cover his fear with rage.    
Techno’s stomach drops and his own Chat picks up the chant. He eases Tommy to his feet and into his bed in the Tnret.    
Tommy cries himself to sleep, unprepared to fight off the voices of a million bloodthirsty.    
“He has them too.” Ghostbur’s voice is not a question.    
Techno nods.    
Ghostbur’s face crumples and he floats out, muttering about getting himself some blue.    
Techno looks back at Tommy, his face still marred by a frown even in sleep. The kid looks exhausted and Techno has to wonder if this has happened to him before.   
He thinks of himself, of the blood staining his hands, of the guilt his father carried deep inside, of the peaceful smile Wilbur had in death.    
_ No, _ he decides,  _ Tommy will not be that. _   
  
When Tommy wakes up, there’s a music disc at his bedside table with a cup of water.    
Tommy walks out of the Tnret to find Techno scowling over book after book of self control, taped together glasses on his nose.    
Tommy has seen those books, high on the shelves of Techno’s base when he snuck in. He wonders why Techno needs them right now.    
The half piglin looks up and finally notices Tommy, placing a leaf in between the pages of the book.    
“Tommy,” Techno starts. “What do you know about Chat?”  __   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am debating piglin tommy, it probably wouldnt change much but still thoughts?


	4. But I'm Gonna Win, I'm Gonna Try (I'll Never Lose, I'll Never Die)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade gets his first canon death and tries to be a good big brother. 
> 
> He is not good at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THE 16th HUH???
> 
> to be fair, i already have like an outline for this story, it was never gonna be canon compliment, I am a self indulgent fool, alright.

Tommy, apparently, did not have a good beach party.    
Techno would say he told him so, considering Dream is the one who allowed it, you know, the guy who got Tommy exiled, but the kid had had a hard week.    
Slightly murderous voices, hallucinations of your best friends, the emotional exhaustion talking to Phil and Techno and Ghostbur must carry.    
The kid clearly needed a break.    
  
Techno… had no idea how to give him one. Heck, his own idea of a break/retirement was tossing himself into work that wasn’t preparing for a war or fighting.    
  
Hey, there’s an idea.    
  
Tommy huffed as they walked through the cold tundra, holding his ratty brown coat closer to his body. Techno glanced over at him before snorting.    
Tommy barely opened his mouth to complain when a heavy coat was plopped down on his body. He snorted in surprise as the hood was pulled over his head.    
“You gotta keep your ears warm, they’re turning red,” Techno said, pinching the folded pig like ears on top of Tommy’s head. “It’ll ruin your hearing, and Lord knows you can’t afford to lose what of that you have.”   
Tommy huffed and puffed and grumbled but didn’t take off the warm coat.    
  
Techno had enlisted the young boy in help with potato farming and other manual labor. It always helped calm Techno down and keep him focused.   
Usually, the pig man worked in silence.   
  
Tommy couldn’t be quiet if his life depended on it.    
  
“-And then I told her, ‘No way, woman, I’d rather die,’ and she said, ‘Oh yeah?’ and she pulled out a, a gun on me,” Tommy rambled on one of his nonsense stories that was actually kind of funny, but to someone who just wanted to farm potatoes, was kind of annoying. “And I pulled out a knife and was like, ‘try me, bi-”   
“Tommy,” Techno interrupted. “Can we work in silence? Just for ten minutes?”   
Wait, no. That was too rude and serious. Quick, tag on a joke.    
“I know that’s hard with your desperate need to be the center of attention but I’d really appreciate it.”   
The already deep frown on Tommy’s face soured even more. Huh? Oh no, did Techno make it worse? Man, this was not going well.   
Oh, what would Wilbur do?   
  
“Here,” the piglin man handed a bucket to Tommy, the small boy’s face shifting to a mixture of confusion and disgust at the contents. “Feed this seagrass to the turtles.”   
Tommy yanks the bucket away and grumbles, dragging Techno’s blue coat in the snow. Techno sighed and turned back to the potatoes, their small and weak flowers barely sprouting in the winter terrain. He frowned and pulled at his long pink hair, a few strands coming free in his hand. 

  
Reconnecting to Tommy, connecting at  _ all _ , was harder than Techno thought. It wasn’t like he thought it’d be a cake walk but he guess he just got too used to success in, well, everything.    
Become the best fighter ever? Done.    
Farming? Number one in potatoes on Hypixel.    
Talk to his dad? A little hurtful on his trust of Phil but still, results were results.   
Get Tubbo to come over for Christmas? Easy! Too easy, honestly, did he scare the little kid or something?    
Talk to  _ Tommy _ ? He’d have better luck resurrecting Wilbur to do it for him. And Techno had considered!    
  
Techno would… just have to keep trying. Earn Tommy’s trust and help the little guy out. Piglin Player Hybrids had to stick together after all.    
It would be like farming potatoes in the cold! Or Hercules, performing one of his tasks. 

  
The irony of Hercules’ Mighty Labors being penance for killing his family in a fit of insanity and rage was not entirely lost on Technoblade.   
  
Suddenly, Chat’s voices rose to an overbearing screech, causing the hybrid to drop his handheld hoe with a wince.    
  
_ THIEFINNIT _ _   
_ _ Oh, Tommy’s mad! _ _   
_ _ Tommy is so gonna get it now, L _

_ THIEFINNIT _ _   
_ _ THIEFINNIT _ _   
_ _ THIEFINNIT _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Thiefinnit _ ? What did that mean?    
Clearly, it was some combination of Tommy’s full name and the word thief but-   
  
Oh.   
  
Techno finds his front door wide open and his little brother hunched over one of his chests, digging around in it, mouth already closed on a golden bite of an apple.    
He has one hand to where his ears are, mumbling a mixture of insults and reassurances to his own internal choir. The other picks up an emerald and puts it beside a pile.    
“What are you doing?” Techno’s voice is low and quiet. How many times must he do this, let someone into his life, his home, just to have his things stolen, his trust betrayed. Not that he had trusted Tommy, of course. He just thought the younger hybrid was smarter. “I thought I asked you to feed the turtles.”   
“You named it Toby,” Tommy snarled back, turning around to glare, golden juice still on his baby tusks and chin. “You kill him twice, you kill my best friend  _ twice _ and you name your dumb pet turtle  _ Toby.” _ _   
_ Techno had a moment of confusion before he connected the dots, Tubbo’s real name was Toby, right.    
“Tommy, it was literally a random name Chat suggested, it’s as meaningful as Carl or Hubert. It’s no excuse to steal from me!”   
  
Tommy gave a mixture of sigh and huff, pushing his way out, carrying out who knows how much of Techno’s stuff.    
Techno gritted his teeth before reeling in his self control.   
“Tommy, please give me back my things.” Techno bit out.    
“Why should I? You betrayed us, Technoblade, you killed Tubbo twice, you single handedly blew up L’manberg, you’re mocking Tubbo with the dumbest turtle imaginable, you mock me everyday!” Tommy snorted. “I say you owe me.”   
“Wha- Tommy, half of that stuff you’re making up! I’m not mocking you or Tubbo! And you’re giving me too much credit, I never betrayed you and Wilbur, your oh so beloved president blew up the majority of it.” Techno retorted. Some of that stuff, he probably would apologize for later but right now wasn’t the time.    
“Leave Wilbur out of this!” Tommy said with a flinch.    
“Oh, what, he dies and suddenly, I’m the only bad guy?!” Techno shouted back. “That’s hypocrisy!”    
“Oh, look at me, I’m Technoblade, all I’m good for is stabbing people in the back and killing for them, I know big fancy words!” Tommy mimicked Techno’s voice, noticeably deepening his own.    
“Hypocrisy isn’t that big of a word,” Techno bristled. “And I am good for more than just violence-”   
Techno took a step forward and both hybrids’ heads exploded.    
  
_ FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT _ _   
_ _ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD _ _   
_ _ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD _ _   
_ _ KILL HIM _ _   
_ _ NO NO NO _ _   
_ _ STAB TOMMY _ _   
_ _ DON'T STAB TOMMY _

Techno faltered. Was this really all he was? Was this how Tommy saw him? Techno took a deep breath. The stuff, it didn’t really matter, he could get more. He means, the stuff was never the issue but whatever.   
Tommy is staring at him with so much fear and anger, a hand pressed against his ears again. Techno raises his hands slowly, taking a slow step towards the younger.    
“Tommy- “ he starts but Tommy is far more afraid than he thought but also far more bold than expected.    
Tommy is holding Techno’s trident and he’s throwing it and he’s clearly scared and not thinking and Techno doesn’t have time to react-   
  


Getting impaled hurts less than Techno expected, to be fair. There were only three main points of pain and if Tommy had put more power into the throw, or actually aimed, or even pulled the darn thing out of him already, Techno would probably be dead.    
  
How is he still standing? Why is the trident still in him? Was Tommy going to steal his trident? Why? Techno didn’t get it.    
  
With a shaking hand, Techno wrenches out the forked weapon. It thuds into the snow, dying the ground a bloody red. Techno stares at it, confused, hurt, bewildered, before turning to look at Tommy.    
The younger piglin hybrid looked horrified, eyes drifting between Techno’s face and the stab wounds dying his blue and white clothes red and purple.    
“.....Tommy?” croaked out Techno.    
  
He meant to say more, he really did but his legs finally failed him, toppling into the stained snow.    
“Techno!” Tommy cried out.

The world was going hazy. Blood loss was officially Techno’s bottom ten ways of dying. He could have sworn the sky was the dark blue of an oncoming storm, not an almost burning white.    
  
Where was Phil?   
  
_ Technoblade was impaled by Tommyinnit. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ 2/3 _   
  
Techno woke up in his bed, embarrassed and a little, well, hurt. It wasn’t everyone who could say they’ve lost a canon life to Tommyinnit.    
He dragged himself out of the bedroom and out of his house, noting how Tommy was still there. He would’ve thought he’d grab the lot and run.    
Instead, Tommy was on his knees, hands hovering over the bloody patch of snow that had been one of Techno’s resting places. The trident was abandoned on the ground, along with the other stolen goods. Tommy was shivering, probably having dropped Techno’s cloak when he ran over.    
…..Phil was gonna kill him.    
“Tommy,” Techno called out, Tommy’s head shooting up. “Come inside.”   
  
The kitchen was in a tense air of silence, the only sounds being Techno rustling for tea bags in the cabinets.    
Finally, he found one that satisfied him, pulling out the flavor, as well as a small bottle of honey.    
“.....I’m sorry.” Tommy said quietly, breaking the silence.    
“You should be,” Techno replied bluntly, placing the kettle on the oven. “But I should have kept a hold of my temper. It was only stuff. Doesn’t mean you can have it now but I should practice more self control.”   
“I didn’t, I wasn’t,” Tommy stopped, looking near tears. “I was going to return the trident. I have one of my own, I just was mad and I thought….”    
Techno hummed in response. One of his little pranks, huh. Made sense.    
“I didn’t mean to give you a canon death. Really.” Tommy spat out.    
Techno didn’t flinch at the idea of his suddenly very real morality.    
“Eh, it’s fine. Needed to be knocked down a peg, we’re even now. Chat’s really going ham at me though so there’s that.” Techno shrugged.   
  
_ TECHNO LOSER _ _   
_ _ TECHNO BLADE DIES??? _ _   
_ _ TWO LEFT _ _   
_ _ TWO LEFT _ _   
_ _ TWO LEFT _ _   
_ _   
_ Two left. That’s fine. Really, this was a fluke. He was fine. It was fine. Tommy and Tubbo both had had worse.    
  
“Techno!” Phil cried out in a panic, holding the abandoned cloak. “What happened, mate?! Are you okay-”   
The older man stopped, staring at Techno calmly making tea with a near tears Tommy cowering away from Philza.    
“You’re… okay. Good,” Phil sighed before turning a harsh glare upon Tommy. “What were you-”   
“Dad. We talked about this. Double standards.” Techno didn’t look up from his tea preparations.    
“Oh, ah, right,” Phil flushed. “Sorry, Tommy.”   
“It’s fine.”   
“So, Lavender or mint?” Techno asked.    
  
Phil watched his son’s back carefully as him and Tommy, his youngest, enjoyed some tea. The older hybrid’s hands shook so slightly that Phil almost missed it, Techno teasing and actually trying some tea a more noticeable distraction.    
Tommy was clearly shaken but Techno had shoved a warm cup of tea in his hands so Phil figured he’d be fine.    
Phil decided to sit back and let the two handle it themselves. He had done enough damage.   
  


Well. More like, didn’t stop any damage.  __   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let Tommy and Techno stay friends


	5. I Love When You're Around (But I Hate When You Leave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno and Tommy talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS CHRISTMAS EVE, ITS FINE, ITS FINE.

Dream was a piece of work.    
Techno, admittedly, respected the man but he was something to be feared, something to be wary of.   
  
Add in the fact he was Tommy’s seemingly only consistent company and had also been the cause of Tommy’s exile and Techno could safely say he was hesitant to be around the masked admin.    
Manipulation was something Techno was used to, he had studied such things in order to have a better understanding of the battlefield. He couldn’t say he had understood it enough to apply to anything else but still.   
Dream was manipulating Tommy, telling him that no one cared for him, destroying his things, making Tommy bend backwards to please him.    
  
Techno was worried for the younger boy, the spark that had made Tommy, well, Tommy, being diminished. The only time it seemed to come up was when Tommy was mad at Techno.    
That couldn’t be healthy. Techno had to fix that. He could fix that. He knew he could.    
It was just a matter of how and when.    
  
The good news? The dinners he brought Tommy and Ghostbur were the when.    
The bad news? Confronting his own emotions and opening himself to Tommy’s actual hatred was the how.    
  
Techno couldn’t afford to lose another family member. Phil’s admittance of Techno’s…. reputation had made things tense and Wilbur was straight up dead. It was almost enough to make Techno feel sick from anxiety.    
Almost. Techno was stronger than that.    
  
Techno stared. Dream stared back. The warm pot of soup in Techno’s hooved hands burned. Dream’s mask remained static as its owner’s head nodded down, looking at it. Techno stared back.    
“Just,” Techno said slowly. “Visiting Tommy.”   
Dream’s head snapped up at that.   
“Visiting Tommy?” the masked man asked. “He didn’t tell me you were coming.”   
“Sorry, didn’t know I needed to sign up for visitation hours,” Techno snipped, trying to play it cool. “Should I use my full name or is my signature okay?”    
Dream chuckled a little before shaking his head, patting Techno on the shoulder as he walked past.    
“Nah,” Dream reassured, back to Techno, voice jovial. “It’s just me and Tommy have been pretty close lately, I thought he’d mention it if his estranged older brother was a visitor.”   
“Well, I mean, it’s his own personal business as long as he stays away from Dream SMP and L’Manberg Territory, right?” Techno’s own voice was the same deadpanned tone.    
“Technically but you know how Tommy is,” Dream’s tone took an edge. “Give him an inch and he’ll steal a mile.”   
“Yeah, that’s why you plan to give him a mile in the first place.” Techno shrugged. “I’ll see you around, Dream.”   
Techno walked forwards into Logsteadshire.    
Dream turned slightly to look at him before continuing onto the path to the Nether portal.    
“....Yeah, see you soon.”   
  
  
Tommy wolfishly dug into the rabbit stew, wiping his mouth with the raggedy end of his,  _ Wilbur’s _ , jacket.    
“Thanks, Big Man,” Tommy murmured, placing his bowl down. Techno hummed in reply, having finished minutes prior. “I still can’t believe you can cook.”   
“Does Dream visit often?” Techno asked, even though he already knew the answer.    
“Everyday!” Tommy beamed, the grin showing off his braces, baby tusks, and the deep, dark circles under his eyes. “I’m practically his best friend!”    
“Oh, really?” Techno couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.    
“Yeah!” Tommy’s enthusiasm decreased. “....Chat doesn’t like him though. Keep telling me to tell him to piss off.”   
“Hm,” Techno shrugged. “Chat actually is a pretty good judge of character but they also jump to conclusions like crazy.” 

“So, what, you’re saying I shouldn’t trust Dream?” questioned Tommy.    
“I’m saying that you should think things through and make your own conclusion but exercise caution,” Techno corrected. “I’m not gonna give you orders on what to do.”   
“I wish you would,” Tommy said quietly. “Everyone has. I don’t listen, ya know, because I’m a big man. I don’t even know why you care.”   
“Phil would kill me if I just let you starve.” Techno deflected. Quick, hide the emotions, we can’t let people know we feel!   
“No, he wouldn’t,” Tommy said coldly. “Phil doesn’t care about me. Dream told me.”   
“Phil- wait, what, Dream?” Techno whipped around to look at Tommy.   
The younger piglin hybrid was staring into the fire, pink and folded ears twitching in his rat’s mess of blonde hair.    
“Dream’s told me about what’s been happening in L’Manberg,” Tommy went on. “About how happy and peaceful things are now that I’m gone, how happy Tubbo is without me, how Phil is only visiting out of pity.”   
“Phil’s visiting because you’re his son and he loves you!” Techno defended.    
“Never was enough of a reason before.” Tommy muttered, looking up at the fading in stars.    
Techno winced but said nothing because Tommy had a point there.    
“Okay, fair, but he’s making an effort! You don’t have to forgive him but you could acknowledge his efforts, Tom,” Techno said, sitting up. “If this is a concern, you could talk to him about it.”   
That caught Tommy off guard.    
“Talk? To Philza?”   
“Yeah. talking to people, especially about your feelings, is a good way to collect information, after all.” Techno smiled, shrugging. He had no idea if it was true. He read it in one of his anger management books. Tommy hummed in reply and they sat in silence for a solid minute.    
“I hate you.”   
Techno startled, the declaration seemingly coming out of nowhere.    
Techno’s ears drooped slightly.    
Ah. That time again, huh?   
“Alright,” Techno stood, brushing dirt off his pants, scooping up the bowls and spoons. “You still have leftovers but I’ll bring Mushroom stew tomorrow- “   
“I’m not done,” Tommy snarled out, stopping Techno mid step. “You said I should talk to people, for information, right?”   
Techno, wordlessly, sat down, watching Tommy’s firelit face struggle for the appropriate words for his emotions.    
“I- I hate how you’re so calm,” Tommy started after a few seconds of struggle. “I hate how you are so stuck in your own beliefs that you’d leave your family in the dust, I hate how nothing, good or bad, phases you, I hate that you can back up your bark with actual bite, I hate how I can’t help but admire you, I hate how you didn’t kill me even after I stole from you and took a canon life from you, I hate how it’s so easy to see you care once I actually look, I hate how you pretend you don’t, I hate how you bringing dinner is one of the few things keeping me alive- “   
  
“What?” Techno’s head had sunk lower during Tommy’s little spiel and snapped up at this last sentence. “Tommy, what do you mean, keeping you alive?”   
Tommy’s eyes widened and the boy floundered.    
“I- I’m not starving, and, and I’m fine, I’m just exaggerating, I’m just being dramatic,” Tommy babbled, not relieving Techno’s rising fears at all. “I’m, I’m, I’m fine- “   
“Tommy.” Techno pleaded, packing everything into one word, every fear into two syllables.    
“I…” Tommy looked away. “It’s nothing to worry about, Dream won’t let me.”   
Suddenly, Techno wasn’t looking at Tommy.    
  
_ Wilbur stood in front of him, sharpened sword shimmering at his side.  _ _   
_ _ “It should keep you safe for now,” Techno was saying, handing him a shield. “Blast, arrows, doesn’t matter what happens or how it goes. You’ll be safe.” _ _   
_ _ “Oh, no, I’ll be fine, Techno!” Wilbur reassured with a hollow laugh. “I won’t die, not yet.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “It’s never my time to die.”  _ Tommy’s and Wilbur’s voices merge together in a horrid sympathy that would have made Techno’s twin cringe in pain.    
Techno’s heart stops.    
  
“Tommy…..” Techno says softly, softer than he meant, and Tommy’s arms wrap tightly around himself, Wilbur’s brown, horrid coat dwarfing him.    
“Don’t,” Tommy cried. “Don’t look at me like that, stop it, I mean it, Technoblade, stop looking at me like you’re pitying me, STOP PITYING ME!”   
Techno tore his gaze away, averting his eyes from his little brother’s shaking form.    
  
“I- I wasn’t done,” Tommy chokes out. “I wasn’t done.”   
Techno says nothing, only nods, the gurgles of zombies and the rattling of skeletons just beyond the torches giving him some sort of reassurance at such familiar sounds.    
“I- I hate how you look so much like Wilbur,” Tommy says and Techno clearly flinches. The boy doesn’t stop, voice volume rising as he spoke. “I hate how you also look nothing like him, I hate how he trusted  _ you  _ at the end to blow everything up, I hate how I know he was mostly to blame. I hate how you called me a hero like being a hero was a disease, I hate how you killed Tubbo twice and only felt bad once, I hate how Ghostbur still likes you, and I hate that, that you’re such a STUBBORN PIG!”   
  
Tommy’s hands fly up to his mouth and both piglin based players freeze. It was one thing to be called a monster because they were, in a sense, literally that. Piglins, the traditional kind, were warriors though, one of the toughest to encounter.    
Pigs couldn’t say the same. To be demoted from ‘person’ to ‘monster’ to ‘pig’ was an awful, horrible insult.    
“Techno, I- “ Tommy stuttered out.    
“Don’t apologize for something you’re not sorry for, Tommy,” Techno interrupted. “Especially when you’re right.”   
Tommy just avoided Techno’s gaze. 

“Tommy, do you, are you safe here?” Techno leaned forward. “Do you want to stay here?”   
“....I just wanna go home.” Tommy whimpered out, still trying to look tough.    
Techno stared at his little brother, his stubborn, fiery, sixteen year old little brother. He sighed after a minute, running a hand down his face.    
“Tommy, I can’t give you an apology for all the things I’ve done, partially because an apology won’t make up for it and because I’m really not entirely sorry,” he said. “But Tommy, I am trying to be better, to be a good brother-”   
“You’re not my brother.” Tommy snorted out under his breath.   
Techno’s hands tightened into fists before relaxing.    
“Okay, good person,” Techno corrected himself. “And as a good person, Tommy, if you need someplace else to be, away from Dream, I’ll offer you someplace safe.”   
“Dream’s,” Tommy choked out. “Dream’s my friend.”   
“I know,” Techno said to pacify him. “But it’s always good to have a backup plan, especially on this server.”   
Tommy only hummed in agreement.    
“I’m only asking one thing of you, Tommy,” the pinkette said, face shadowed by the flames. “Consider it a christmas gift.”   
“What?” Tommy snarled out.    
“Stay alive,” Techno leaned further into the light towards Tommy. “If you have to fight to survive, fight. If there is any chance of survival, any possibility that you will survive to tomorrow, take it. I don’t care if you have to fight Dream, me, Phil, hell, even yourself, but stay alive.”   
Tommy just stared, dull blue eyes confused beyond measure at the request.    
“Please, Tommy,” Techno said softly. “It’s all I want.”   
  
_ I can’t afford to lose you too.  _ _   
_ _   
_ “....Alright,” Tommy finally agreed after a painfully long minute. “I promise.”    
  
  
  
Techno stared at his reflection in the mirror, at the long length of curls of pink hair furling down his back.    
With a slightly shaking hand, Techno grasped the pink strands in his grip, holding them in a ponytail like hold.    
With the other, he raised his sword. He stared at it for a minute, he looked up at his reflection.    
There was the sound of metal moving swiftly through the air and a tangle of pink curls dropped to the floor.    
Techno let loose a sigh, leaning heavily on the sink. His hair was choppily cut to shoulder length, loose pink strands still hanging on his shoulders.   
“Why’d you cut your hair?” Ghostbur’s voice echoed and the retired warrior couldn’t muster up the energy to be surprised by his appearance. He raised his head, meeting his dead twin’s eyes in the reflection.    
“Tactical advantage,” Techno quoted his prepared excuse. “It’s been getting too long for a while, I only now have the time to cut it.”   
“Aw, but…” Ghostbur’s face twisted into a pout. “It was so fun braiding!”   
Techno’s hands tightened on the edge of the sink.    
And there it was, the real reason Techno had rid himself of the pink growth on his head.    
Techno considered himself to be someone who didn’t run from the past or the truth. But memories of songs and hooved hands braiding hair contradicted the hum of a song Techno absolutely  _ despised _ and hooved hands gripping his shoulders as he was pushed into a pit with their younger brother, were a distraction he could not afford.   
The juxtaposition of eternal trust you should have in your own twin brother and the betrayal of being used was a confusing dilemma Techno was forced to confront every time he even looked at the messy braid still left in it.    
Wilbur had done it before the final battle,  _ My L’Manberg _ ’s tune once more drilled into his brain as Wilbur went to work. Techno hated the memory but held it close to his chest all the same.    
“You haven’t been around a lot, so I thought it’d be fine.” Techno replied.    
“Well, I mean, it is your hair….” Ghostbur sighed, shoulders shrugging in the reflection. “You know, I should visit you more often!”   
Techno’s shoulders tensed.    
“We’ve been so distant, I don’t know why.”    
He gritted his teeth, eyes squeezed closed. 

“I don’t think I did anything wrong-”   
“YOU USED ME!” Technoblade howled out, whirling on the ghost.    
  
He found himself staring down an empty hallway, alone in his cold house.    
Alone. Always alone.    
Techno dropped to his knees amongst his fallen locks.    
  
_ “I used you…?”  _ came Ghostbur’s whispery and timid voice, so unlike Wilbur’s.  _ “I don’t remember….. When did I….How did I…?”  _ _   
_ Techno let out a shuddering sigh, sealing away the tears he so desperately wanted to release.    
“You didn’t, Ghostbur.” Techno said quietly.    
_ “Alivebur.”  _   
“Yeah,” Techno stood to his feet, reaching for a broom. “I’m sorry, I know you’re not him, I shouldn’t have lashed out.”    
_ “It’s okay…. Should I leave you alone?”  _   
“No.” Techno’s response was too fast and he forced himself to swallow down the almost unbearable loneliness he had inflicted on himself. “Twins have to stick together, right?”   
Wilbur would have responded something smart, something sharp, something equal parts reassuring and insulting.    
Ghostbur was not Wilbur.    
_ “Oh, okay! Do you want some blue?” _ _   
_ “Sure, Ghostbur. Sure.” 


	6. All I Want For Christmas Is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, listen, still December, still counts. STILL COUNTS.   
> Also, i know all you clingy duo lovers are suffering from yesterday, so Im here to heal your broken little hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyday i wake up with technoblade himself smacking fanfic ideas into my head and I Suffer. Please, its almost one. I want to Rest.

Christmas Eve.    
A time for joy, a time for being with the ones you loved, a time for overeating delicious food.    
President Tubbo found himself with none of those things.   
  
He had no joy, his country was walking on eggshells with so much conflict happening in the SMP territory, the looming threat of Technoblade, and his own cabinet members comparing him to a literal dictator.    
His loved ones were so close and yet so far, political disagreements and general trust issues making it hard to bridge the gap. And his best friend, his right hand man, was gone, exiled for the good of a country that he created.    
He had no time to even grab a plate for dinner, Technoblade’s deadline clear.    
  
December 24th, 5 pm.    
  
Tubbo brushed aside his friends’ invites and concerns, saying he’d be working late on presidential matters.    
He had wished them an early christmas in case he slept in and couldn’t wish them one right away. ( _ In case he died and was unable to offer one ever again. _ )    
Ranboo had frowned, reaching for his planner. Tubbo had hightailed it out of there before the endercreature could correct his statement.    
  
  
Tubbo travelled to Logsteadshire through the Nether, making sure to appreciate New L’Manberg and the builds within it as he went. He wasn’t sure if he’d see it ever again.   
  
Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he was doing this.   
  
Technoblade was a clear threat to everything Tubbo was trying to do, he had killed him twice, once canon, and had summoned two withers to destroy Tubbo’s home.    
If there was one place Tubbo shouldn’t go, it was anywhere Techno was.    
This was clearly some kind of trap. And Tubbo was going to go because what?   
  
The kid looked down at the shimmering compass in his hand, the heat of the Nether doing nothing to diminish the warmth of the enchantment.    
  
Okay, so he was going for Tommy. He was walking into the jaws of death, for Tommyinnit. Why? Surely the piglin based player would not want to see him. 

But he couldn’t leave Tommy with Technoblade! Who knew what Technoblade would do to Tommy! Who knew what  _ Tommy _ would do to  _ Technoblade _ !   
  
The boy walked through the Nether like he was marching to his own execution and as someone had decorated such an event before, he felt like it too. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to go.   
He didn’t want to die.   
Tubbo stood in front of the Nether portal leading to Logsteadshire and found himself unbelievably terrified.    
Terrified for himself, for Tommy, for New L’Manberg.   
But he was already here and he couldn’t turn back now.    
  
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Tubbo whispered to himself before stepping through the portal, letting the familiar nausea of portal travel whisk him away.    
He opens his eyes in Logsteadshire, the sun beginning its slow climb into bed.

  
The small camp is lit up with glowstone and redstone, a surprisingly cheerful energy in the air. There’s the distant sound of a disc playing, though he isn’t sure which one. 

For a minute, Tubbo wonders what’s going on, if maybe he came too early, too late, if he’s going to stumble on something that will shatter his already broken heart; his best friend tied up, having prepared to celebrate Christmas Eve only to find himself at the edge of a knife, Tommy volenterally spending time with someone who wants Tubbo dead, or worse still, Tommy dead, Techno mocking the decorations he had set up just before.    
And then he hears the laughter.    
  
Phil’s bolstrus laughter, loud and carried far, almost overpowering the others. Ghostbur’s whispery echo of a laugh, nothing at all like Wilbur’s bubbling overflow. Techno’s surprisingly pleasant but still threatening booming howl. Tommy’s cackle, vibrant and as passionate as the rest of him.    
Tommy.   
  
Tubbo finds himself walking faster, his sensitive nose picking up the smell of turkey, of baked potatoes, and it’s like he’s been whisked away to another time.    
Techno and Phil are in the kitchen, talking the language of cooking and of battle, laughter sometimes echoing out as they reach for the same spice.    
Wilbur’s guitar singing along with Wilbur’s gentle voice. Tommy’s purposely screechy voice howling in time.    
A time that was safe, homely even. A time with his best friend.    
  
“Tommy!” Tubbo calls out, running into the small but festive camp.    
Tommy’s pointy pink ears prick up and he turns slightly, seeing the well dressed goat player running towards him.    
“Tubbo…?” Tommy whispers, almost to himself, before leaping from his seat, running towards his friend. “Tubbo!”   
“Tommy!” Tubbo yells back in reply and the two collide.    
Cat and Mellohai, Red and Green, Pig and Goat, Soldier and Spy, Your Tubbo and Your Tommy, united at last.    
They were both laughing out of joy and disbelief, tears budding in their eyes, clinging at each other like if they let go, one would disappear.    
  
Phil watched, smiling as the two chattered over each other, checking up on each other. He glanced at his eldest son.   
Techno was smiling as well, something soft and fond. He didn’t even seem to notice it.    
“You got something on your face.” Phil said.    
“What?” Techno asked, turning quickly and patting his face.    
“Affection.” Phil said, smiling like the cat that caught the canary. Techno flushed, embarrassed, before turning away, face red.    
  
“What are you even doing here?” Tommy questioned in disbelief, whipping his face.   
“Oh! Techno told me to come! Said it had to do with you.” Tubbo responded, reminded of his reason for being here.   
“Yup,” both boys startled and looked up, Techno standing over them. “Merry Christmas, Tommy. Never say I’ve never done anything for you.”    
“Wait, you invited me here to have Christmas Eve with Tommy?” The goat kid asked.    
“Uh, yeah? What’d you think I was-” Techno’s eyes widened and he smacks himself in the forehead. “I knew I was forgetting something.”   
“What?” Tommy asked, still holding tightly to Tubbo.    
“Nothing, nothing,” Techno waved the question away, sighing. “I’ll deal with it later. Right now, the food is getting cold and with our final guest? We can finally eat.”    
Tommy cheered with his standard level of gusto and Tubbo felt the last part of him that had still been on edge relax.    
  
  
It was a familiar sight, pink ears poking out of a blonde mop dragging around two floppy ears poking out of a brown rat nest.    
The two were chaotic together and the mischief their banter already had was enough to make even Dream himself nostalgic.    
Techno was not immune to the fondness the clingy duo practically oozed.    
Not that he let anyone know, of course, he kept all his emotions in here and then he would die.    
Phil seemed happy they were getting along, keeping Ghostbur away from the reunited duo.   
  
It took a few minutes for the two to separate, Tommy running to his little ugly tent to show him what stuff he has.    
Tubbo found himself joined by Techno.    
  
“So, what’s your plan in all of this? What are you doing with Tommy?” Tubbo asked, long goat ears flicking.    
Techno glanced down at the kid.   
As much as they all would like to pretend, those christmases of relaxation and joy were gone. Tubbo was no longer the bee loving boy, he was a president of a wartorn country. Tommy wasn’t just a troublemaker, he was exiled. Phil couldn’t hide behind his title of Father anymore. Techno was confronted with the possible consequences of his violent lifestyle and Wilbur was dead.    
So, no, Techno looked down at a boy who was more than Tommy’s best friend and a lover of bees, he was a boy forced in some last act of dramatic irony of an uncaring orchestrator into a role he had never asked for.    
He saw the president of L’Manberg, Damocles, waiting for the blade to drop.   
  
“Oh, yeah, you caught me, I have a major ulterior motive,” Techno said, throwing his hands up before leaning down, whispering. “My horse really likes him.”   
Tubbo froze before turning to look up at him.    
“What?” he questioned, confused.    
“Never sent that fancy letter, my bad,” the piglin player shrugged sheepishly. “ADHD, you know?”   
“What?” Tubbo said again, looking doubly confused.    
“I’m retired,” Techno finally explained. “No more government dismantlements or bloody battles for me.”   
“Wait, really?”    
“Yup, I’ve had my entire life philosophy both proven and spat upon at the same time while my dad killed my twin brother and am tossing myself at whatever non-violent task I can get my hands on in hopes of denying the bloodlusting voices in my head as well the potential emotional breakdown.”   
“What?” Tubbo’s ears pricked up and he blinked up at Techno.    
“Don’t worry about it, just know anything bad that happens to New L’Manberg will not be done by your local anarchist.” Techno reassured the goat player.

“I…” Tubbo smiled softly. “That’s good to hear about. I’m seriously going to need that letter then, the others won’t believe it otherwise.”   
“I’ll send it tomorrow, Mr. President.” Techno nodded.    
“Ey, you two better not be talking business!” Tommy shouted, running over. “No one talks politics during the holidays!”   
No one was given the chance to disagree, what with him immediately trying to show Tubbo the incomplete How To Sex 3.    
  
“You cut your hair!” Tommy suddenly shouted in between bites of baked potatoes, pointing a hooved finger at the other piglin player.    
Techno finished his own bite before raising an eyebrow.    
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” huffed Tommy. “I just noticed, alright.”   
“Oh, wow, Tommy, you grew your hair out, when did that happen.” Techno snarked back.    
Tommy snorted in surprise, reaching up to his shaggy blonde hair.   
“Tommy….” groaned Tubbo, looking unsurprised but not disappointed.    
“You didn’t notice?!” Techno threw his hands up, utterly astounded.    
“How am I supposed to notice, it’s not like I have a mirror!”   
“It’s literally growing on your head, what-”   
  
“So have you been taking care of your horns?”   
“What? Why are you asking me now, Phil? We both live in L’Manberg.”   
“You’re usually busy. Now answer the question.”   
“Uh, well…”   
  
“Tommy.”   
“Technoblade.”   
“Give me back my crown.”   
“..........No.”   
“Wanna try again?”   
“Noooo?”   
“...........”   
“..........”   
“Come here, Tommy.”   
“Wait, Technoblade, no, wait, don’t, Technoblade, TECHNOBLA-”   
  
“PHIL, HELP ME.”   
“Sorry, mate, you’re on your own!”   
“TOMMY, GIVE ME MY CROWN, YOU NERD!”   
“ **_PHIL, HE’S GONNA KILL ME._ ** ”   
“Oh, pog.”   
“ **_PHIL._ ** ”   
  
“How’s Ranboo?”   
“Ranboo? Oh, he’s fine!”   
“Oh, good, good…. And everyone else?”   
“Quackity made a new country named Mexican L’Manberg.”   
“W-What.”   
“Yeah.”   
  
“Geez, do you ever brush your hair?”   
“Well… no…”   
“Hm. Here, use my hairbrush. Our hair is the same length now, y’know?”   
“Yeah but mine is coolier, right, Techno?!”   
“I don’t know, Phil’s seems cooler.”   
“Well, Techno agrees, sorry, Tommy.”   
“Wha- hey, you’re ganging up on me, this is bullying!”   
  
  
  
Ghostbur watched from his log, chewing a cooked spud. It was so nice, everyone together with Tommy, lads on tour extreme version!   
Sure, he was still confused about what Techno said after cutting his hair but he had enough blue to get rid of those thoughts. He had enough blue for everyone!    
Blue for when Techno visited, Blue for when Dream visited, Blue for when… Tommy always got sad when people visited but he seemed really happy afterwards so it was probably fine!    
But he didn’t need any blue this time, everyone was happy! Wasn’t that good? Wasn’t that great?    
So why did Ghostbur feel so uneasy?   
  
  
Tubbo laughed, waving to Tommy as he walked away, the sun long set.    
Tommy frantically waved back as the goat player left, the young piglin hybrid only stopping to shove Techno when the other ruffled his hair.    
Eventually the president vanished, the portal swallowing him up.    
  
Phil and Techno cleaned up from the feast as Ghostbur softly hummed, Tommy sitting next to the ghost.

With Tubbo gone, the piglin player couldn’t seem to keep his eyes closed.    
Phil grabbed the last dish and hurried home himself, unsure if both him and Tubbo leaving and coming back at the same time would seem suspicious but spending time with Phil privately was a pretty decent alibi if it came down to it.    
  
With that, only Techno, Tommy, and Ghostbur remained.    
Techno sighed as he flopped down next to the other two. He glanced over at Tommy, the young boy’s eyes nearly closed, one pink pointy ear twitching every now and then.    
“You should go to sleep.” Techno nudged Tommy, the younger piglin slipping off the log halfway onto the ground.    
“Don’t wanna,” grumbled Tommy. “you’ll leave if I do.”   
“What, you getting attached?” Techno chuckled.   
“Maybe.” Tommy admitted, quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to be heard.    
  


Ghostbur floated off, to sleep, presumably. Tommy shoved his hair out of his face.    
“Now that I know it’s there, it keeps bothering me,” Tommy whined, still half asleep. “What did you do to keep it out of your face?”   
“I,uh…. I had Wilbur or Phil braid for me.” Techno replied quietly, looking up at the night sky.   
“..........” Tommy waited a second before looking up at Techno. “Do you mind doing it for me?”   
“Sure, but I’m not as good as-” Techno forced down the bittersweet memories. He focused on Tommy scooting in front of him, back length blonde hair brushed out in front of him. “...Not as good as you’ll get once I teach you.”   
“Yeah!” Tommy cried excitedly before yawning. “I’ll be the best braider ever.”   
  
Neither piglin based players noticed a flash of neon green slip into the dark forest. Neither noticed the bone white mask tilt in an almost amused manner before slinking into the shadows.    
  
Neither noticed Dream pulling their strings. 

**Author's Note:**

> -Techno and Wilbur are twins and both part piglin  
> -Techno is not aware of the whole government angle until too late and he can't be mad at Wilbur for using him because Wilbur is dead???? killed by their dad???? so grief betrayal and plain old rage and bloodlust take the reins and points a sword at Tommy, thank you for coming to my ted talk  
> -TECHNOBLADE WAS RIGHT  
> -look at this potato king and stew lover and tell me he can't be a good cook


End file.
